


Tombstones and Tuesdays

by biggrstaffbunch



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Crack, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-25
Updated: 2013-12-25
Packaged: 2018-01-06 02:06:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1101117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/biggrstaffbunch/pseuds/biggrstaffbunch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rose and the Doctor land on the Hellmouth, and that means he finally goes toe-to-toe with someone sexier than him. Or, Rose meets Dracula.</p><p>Turns out, werewolves are cool. Vampires? Not so much.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tombstones and Tuesdays

The first thing Rose Tyler realizes is that there are gravestones everywhere she turns. 

Big, somber-looking, slightly menacing gravestones.

"Doctor." Rose begins carefully, "Doctor, have we landed in a...cemetery?"

Her eyes widen as she looks around, her hands tucked up beneath her chin. "We have," she answers herself, "We _have_ landed in a cemetery." She whirls on the Doctor. "Why are we in a cemetery, then?" Instead of her usual excitement, there's a bit of hesitance. Because, honestly, well--

\-- _cemetery_.

"Now, Rose," the Doctor chides cheerfully, his fists propped against his hips as he surveys the surroundings with infinite satisfaction, "Take all the mystery out of it, why don't you?" 

Rose throws him an affectionate sort of glare. "Alright, fine," she says, sticking her tongue out. "I'll just keep my mouth shut and watch things go wonky because _someone_ didn't have the sense to ask any questions." 

The leaves rustle and the TARDIS seems to hum and whirr in agreement. The Doctor's mouth drops open as he flickers an affronted gaze from Rose to the telephone booth.

"Et tu, lovely spaceship?" he asks the TARDIS plaintively, and when he gets no response, he turns a comically offended look back to Rose. 

Who simply pats the big blue box absently and ignores him, choosing instead to look around with an expression of growing apprehension.

"Well, that's just _mean_ ," he complains. "My plans _never_ go wonky--that's extremely unwarranted, I _always_ \--well, I mean, there was that _one_ time, yes, but there were mitigating circumstances, you know--"

"Seems like that should be your middle name," Rose interrupts serenely. "Doctor comma mitigating circumstances comma The." 

Before the Doctor can retort, she shivers, rubbing her arms and gazing around the graveyard, her eyes lingering on the looming headstones and darkened crypts. "This _place_ ," she says. "It's giving me the willies. Never did like cemeteries, you know. Aliens I can handle--giant spaceship crashing into Big Ben, even--without getting too tetched. But dead people?" She shudders. "Willies." 

Her head tilts. "Can't you feel it?" she asks the Doctor urgently. "I can. Reckon even the TARDIS can--she's been making that awful sound since we landed." Rose frowns, her fingernails digging into her palms. "There's something in the air..."

"That'd be residual Hellmouth matter," the Doctor says, rocking on his heels. "Yes, yes, yes. It's _brilliant_ , the way forces work around here. All the negative energy and the manipulation of time and space--alternate time-streams, metamorphisizing beings, preternaturally strong teenage girls--amazing things happen on this land, Rose. Amazing, sometimes terrible things. No better place to be for someone like us, don't you agree?"

"For all that we're amazing and terrible," Rose says, eyebrow raised. "I mean, sometimes we're _amazingly_ terrible, and terribly _amazing_ \--" this gets a chuffed sort of look from the Doctor, "--but I'd rather us not be the sort you'd expect somewhere called a...what is it, again?"

"Hellmouth," the Doctor supplies helpfully. "Mystical convergence of supernatural creatures...demons and monsters and hellspawn and--"

"Yeah, okay," Rose interrupts, looking a bit green. She's rubbing her arms in earnest now, darting looks behind her as she steps almost gingerly through the grass towards the Doctor. "I'm sure we'll fit right in. Just..tell me something? Has this place also got alien overlords who want to wipe out the human race or, I dunno, blow up the planet?" Her lips quirk into a quick grin. "Because I _really_ think that's been done, don't you?"

The Doctor breaks into a wide smile, unbuttoning his jacket slowly. "Has, hasn't it? Getting a little boring." he agrees thoughtfully, shrugging out of his sleeves. "But give me a little credit, fair Rose Tyler," he says grandly, draping the jacket around Rose's shoulders. Rose smiles in thanks and gives an exaggerated curtsy. "You wanted to see something spectacular? Something even better than cat-nurses and mistletoe and farting Prime Ministers? Well, let me tell you," he steps away and holds out his hand expectantly, "--today you're going to see something epic!"

Rose simply looks at him, clutching the jacket closer around herself. "It's a cemetery," she says meaningfully.

The Doctor nods. "Of course it is, but it's an _epic_ cemetery!" He wiggles his fingers, but Rose only looks at him steadily, her expression incredulous. "What?" he asks, "It is! I swear in the name of Brangelina!"

The incredulity on Rose's face melts into mock-horror. "Oi," she says, "Don't you take their name in vain. You and your nasty jinxing magic."

The Doctor folds his arms and gives a shifty look. "I regret to inform you, Rose, that I have no idea what you're on about. It could be that time-travelling has interfered with your sanity."

"Come off it," Rose scoffs, her voice teasing. Her shoulders relax and she gives in, tugging one of the Doctor's hands out from under his arm and slipping her fingers through his. "Just the other day we were in 18th century England, and as soon as you said, 'Oh, Viscount and Viscountess St. Vincent, cute couple, they are,' what happens?"

She is met with ringing silence, except for the chirp of crickets and the occasional rustle of leaves. "I'm waaaaittting," she sings, poking the Doctor in the side.

"The Viscountess caught the Viscount in the larder with the maid," the Doctor mumbles. "That was _one_ time," he protests. "Once. Do you know, I introduced Marc Antony and Cleopatra? My presence blesses young hearts in love--"

"Mhhm," Rose hums, absurdly tickled to hear the Doctor talking about young hearts in love. "Well, I suppose if you swear on Brad and Angelina, I can suspend disbelief, just this once. If you say this world is perfectly safe, then I believe you." Her eyes shine as the Doctor looks down at her, his hand squeezing hers gently.

"Well, now. I didn't say this world was safe," he warns. Then he breaks into a dashing smile, winking roguishly. "I just said it would be worth any and all danger we're sure to encounter." He swings Rose's hand in his, giving her an impromptu spin as she laughs, stumbling into him. "Anyway," he says in that trying-to-be-casual-but-failing-rather-miserably sort of way of his, "I wouldn't let anything happen to you if I could help it." 

Rose smiles indulgently. "I know," she says. "You'd save me."

The Doctor nods, considering. "Or you'd save me," he points out. "Been a fair bit of both, I'd say." 

His hand grazes her chin, tilting it up so he can look at her with such _tenderness_ that Rose's breath catches. This new incarnation of the Doctor is so much more gobby than the last, but sometimes Rose misses those earlier days when there was a quieter yet more certain connection between the two of them. She can't help enjoying the few times that this Doctor seems to let his feelings show in his face, the quirks of his brow and the shine of his eyes.

The second hangs suspended, right there in the middle of the cemetery, nothing but the sky as their witness, and Rose can't even bring herself to mind that they're having a tender moment in the middle of a bunch of dead people.

Then, the Doctor coughs and playfully bumps her hip with his own. 

"All that doesn't matter anyway," he says, "because yes! This place is absolutely tranquil, considering."

He laces his fingers tighter through Rose's own fingers, their palms touching, and she opens her mouth to ask, "Considering, what?" 

The Doctor waits a dramatic beat before he continues proudly:

"The vampires, of course!"

Rose falters even as the Doctor walks on. Did he just say--did that brilliant, mad, infuriatingly mysterious man--just say _vampires_?

His hand tugs at hers and she steps quicker to catch up. "The vampires," she says, her voice quiet. "Of course. Vampires, yeah...right, so I know I really shouldn't bother to say it, but I feel it's my duty as the quirky yet _un_ doubtedly adorable companion, so-- umm, the thing is, Doctor--vampires don't _exist_."

The Doctor raises an eyebrow and gives her a look down his nose. "Neither do werewolves," he reminds her, grinning. All at once, Rose recalls their recent adventure in the time of Queen Victoria, who'd been a rather terrifying experience on her own, regardless of the lupine-obsessed monks. An adventure in the supernatural, and another step towards doing away with yet another misconception Rose had about the way the universe works.

"Ah." Rose nods now, sagely. She smiles wider, face lit with mischief. " _Right_." 

"Yes, quite," the Doctor says, tapping Rose's nose. "Quirky yet un _doubtedly_ adorable." He gives a smirk that Rose mirrors, then continues on, leading her down the path winding through the expansive graveyard. 

Rose shakes her head and looks around; the cemetery around them is dark, trees moving in the breeze. The moon hangs full and white, trembling in the sky. "You always do show me the strangest things," she muses, almost to herself.

"But they're _brilliant_ things," the Doctor insists, a question nonetheless in the tilt of his brows. His hand jerks her closer, and Rose hides a smile against his shoulder, accepting his proximity and the solid, reassuring line of his body against hers.

"But they're brilliant things," she echoes. A rustle in the bushes nearby and Rose jumps, placing a hand on her heart. "Doctor," she says uncertainly. "What are we here to see, then? And where--when-- _is_ here, exactly?"

The Doctor comes to a stop in front a particularly large gravestone, his expression intent. He crouches, touching the surface of the stone, his eyes searching the name and date before he nods in satisfaction. His smile gleams in the blue glow of the night, and he drops Rose's hand, searching through the pockets of his suit for, Rose presumes, his sonic screwdriver. "Sunnydale, California," he finally answers her lightly, though the set of his face is tight in expectation, his gaze zeroed in on the mound of dirt in front of the grave. "2000. And we're here so you can witness your first fledgling rising."

"My first what doing _what_?" Rose asks, stepping back from the grave. 

"No, it's fine," the Doctor soothes absently. He finds the sonic screwdriver and makes a triumphant noise, flicking it on and taking careful aim. "Ah," he says. "About ten minutes till rebirth. Better find a good spot."

Rose furrows her brow. "Rebirth? Doctor, are we--" her face clears and excitement lights up her eyes. "Are we going to be seeing a real, live vampire? Like Lestat and all?"

The Doctor rubs his hands together and grins confidingly. "A real, _undead_ vampire," he corrects. "And considerably plainer than Tom Cruise, in any case. But yes, we will be seeing a vampire." He gives Rose an eager, anticipatory look. "Good?" he asks, almost uncertainly. 

Rose lets out a breath. " _Wicked_ ," she assures. "Do you know, I always fancied vampires when I was small? Went around for three Halloweens straight all decked out like an Anne Rice castoff." She frowns. "Mum thought I was a bit touched in the head, actually. But the idea was just _so_ cool, all blood-sucky and pale and Dark Prince of the Night." She gives a theatrical shiver, wriggling her brows.

The Doctor's own eyebrows have climbed to his hairline. "I thought you had a thing about dead people," he says. "Thought they gave you _willies_."

Rose scoffs, looking down at the mound of dirt avidly. "Vampires don't count, Doctor," she says. "Vampires aren't dead little boys with gas-masks moulded to their faces. Nor are they walking corpses with alien spirits invading their bodies." She gives a sly smile. "They're _sexy_."

The Doctor makes a face. "Meet Dracula a time or two and _then_ talk to me, Rosie-Rose-Rose." He slings his arm around Rose's shoulders and continues exuberantly, a reminiscing look on his face. "Do you know, that fellow was the smarmiest sort of half-being I've ever known, and nowhere _near_ as good-looking as the stories say--"

_"You vound me, Doctor."_

The Doctor yelps and the screwdriver flies out of his hands, a surprised, dismayed expression flitting over his face. 

Rose ducks and turns, but she sees no one. "Who's there?" she calls, unnerved. "Who is it?"

Though really, the way her life goes, oughtn't she know by now? The Doctor says something, entirely ironically, and then what happens?

The blighted thing _shows up_.

The Doctor is still frozen in stunned silence, so Rose sighs, takes the initiative. "I said," she hollers again, "who's there?"

The voice gives an unearthly chuckle. _"Who do you think is there, dear girl?"_ it asks gently. _"The Doctor took my name and so I arrive. Though I must admit, I do vish he had been a bit more charitable in his description of me. I like to think it's not only the vomen who find me devastatingly handsome, after all."_

Rose frowns. "Is that....Dracula, then?" she asks hesitantly, thinking that Dracula sounds an awful lot like Captain Jack Harkness. "Why's he all--disembodied?"

"Don't talk to him, Rose," the Doctor commands, coming out of his stupor, his brown eyes suddenly dangerous. "He'll use his silly parlor tricks to put you under his spell, and the next thing you know, it'll be you and him in bed on the TARDIS, nothing but lingerie and jam and _destruction_ in your wake." 

Rose wonders whether the Doctor is talking about an acquaintance of his or...well, _himself_. Then her mind's eye rebels at the latter's image, and she rather hurriedly decides he is just speaking in metaphors. Though what lingerie and jam could be a metaphor _of_ , she has no clue...

Ye gads, her tangents are starting to rival the Doctor's.

"What are you doing here anyway, eh?" the Doctor's cries, interrupting Rose's thoughts. She watches, bemused, as he pushes up on his tip-toes, bringing his fists up. "You're not due here for another week, I made _sure_ of it! Don't think I'm not ready for you, you limey bastard! You won't be wooing _this_ one away from me!"

Rose rolls her eyes fondly; though his possessiveness is nice, the Doctor must weigh six stone at the most, soaking _wet_. She hardly thinks that in a physical fight (even in a physical fight with _air_ ) he'd be of much use. She sighs and bends to scoop up the neglected screwdriver, standing quickly when she feels something brush her arse.

"Doctor," she says, gritting her teeth to keep from shrieking. "Is Dracula, by any chance...a pervert?"

"Unrepentantly," the Doctor says. "Why? Did he just touch your bum?"

"Um. _Yes._ "

"Mhmm," the Doctor hums, still dancing on his toes, looking this way and that with his fists curled tight, "Yeah, he does that." He waves his fist. "Come on and show yourself, already! I've got no use for your theatrics. And _this_ girl isn't about to be swayed by your 'tall, dark, and deadly' routine. _She's_ got far more taste than Yolanda!"

Even through the warm glow of pride, aiming the sonic screwdriver wherever the Doctor faces, Rose can't help but mouth, "Yolanda?"

The Doctor clears his throat. "Ah. Yes. Yolanda. Right, well...just after my first tour of Earth after the Time War," he says sheepishly. "Was back in London, all regenerated and--er. Well. Lonely. Met this lady--lovely girl, I thought, very brave. But incredibly fickle!" He hurriedly adds, as Rose lips tip downward. "I--quite accidentally, mind you--got her toy poodle run over by a deranged kitchen appliance, so I did what any gentleman would do--took her to Romania to dance with the dragons!" He brightens. "Only _this_ bugger--" his scowl comes back, and he jerks a thumb towards thin air, "decided to work his wiles on poor Yolanda. And I walked in on their little tea party on the TARDIS. Well, no one invites themselves onboard the TARDIS--not especially for hanky panky, Rose. Sent Yolanda right home and then and there swore a deep and abiding enmity with Dracula."

Rose knows she should feel something other than overwhelming hilarity surging through her-- jealousy or sympathy or disbelief, maybe. (There was a girl before her? And her name was... _Yolanda??_ ) 

But the intense petulance tugging on the Doctor's features is just _too_ much.

She giggles. A lot. Loudly. Falls over, hands on knees, laughing around deep gulps of air. "You got in a fight with _Dracula_ over someone whose toy poodle snuffed it before its owner had a shag in your spaceship?" she sputters, slapping her thigh. "Doctor, that's absurd even for _you_! That's like--like a twisted episode of As the TARDIS Turns!"

_"You laughter sounds the way I imagine a church bell rings, dear Rose. If I'd ever been to church."_

The Doctor's burgeoning grin disappears. "How do you know her name?" he asks, voice hard. Rose abruptly stops laughing, acutely aware that even though the Doctor might _seem_ harmless much of the time, he's not one to cross easily. Not even if you're Dracula.

 _"There is such a thing as telepathy, Doctor,"_ Dracula sounds amused. _"It's not only Time Lords that vill indulge occasionally, yes? And you. You think of her often, your Rose."_

There is heavy silence, and something expands in Rose's chest, unbearably warm and inexplicably frightening. But now's not the time to explore that, and she finds that she wants to do something to take that arrested, wary look off the Doctor's face.

"Mind-reading in addition to the bloodsucking, then? Creepy," Rose says. "Why doesn't he show himself?" She spins about again, waving the screwdriver, but the night air is peaceful enough.

The Doctor's voice is quiet. "Because we've got company," he says. Rose looks down at the mound of dirt that isn't a mound of dirt anymore. It's a mound of dirt with a hand and oh, look--an arm!--breaking through.

"Ah. Fledgling?" she asks, weakly.

"Rising," the Doctor confirms grimly. "Get behind me, Rose," he says. "And you!" he addresses the sky severely. "Mind your great big flappy wings, please."

The air seems to chuckle and then the vampire is almost all the way out of the ground and Rose?

Is seriously starting to reconsider her stance on vampires and any associated sexiness therein.

_"Do not vorry, fair Rose. I vill make sure that the impudent newling will not harm you."_

"Oh, come off it!" the Doctor snaps. "He's dust," he informs Rose sourly. "Can't do much as dust, can you?" Rose hides a smile as the Doctor shields her with his body, his hand braced against her thigh and his other arm thrown widely out to cover her.

"Never thought I'd see the day," Rose whispers teasingly, her eyes fastened on the Doctor's profile rather than the growling, struggling vampire crawling out of his grave. "The Oncoming Storm barking at _dust_."

"Oh, you come off it, too." But his voice is less irritable, and a smile breaks the thin line of his lips. "You're a minx, Rose Tyler. You like to entice vampires with your wiles."

Rose snorts. "Oh, you like to entice self-obsessed sheaths of skin!" The Doctor freezes in front of her, and his hand squeezes her thigh. Actually _squeezes_ , and she screams, because, well--she's ticklish! And then she stumbles backwards and falls, and _he_ stumbles backwards and falls, and the fledgling is all the way out of his grave and snarling and God, Rose is positive that one day she and the Doctor are both really going to die because they're so unfailingly inept sometimes.

The vamp looks hungry, but the Doctor is _on top of her_ , his eyes wide and arms caging around her. Behind his shoulder, she can see the thick neck and wide shoulders of the drooling, ridged-browed vampire. Rose thinks detachedly that vampires probably aren't as attractive as she first thought.

"You remember that?" the Doctor asks curiously, paying absolutely no heed to the vampire steadily creeping up behind them. "All that happened on New Earth?" And all at once, Rose is lost in the memory of Cassandra blanketing her brain, the feel of tunneling her fingers through the Doctor's hair and snogging him, lips clinging hungrily to his and that deliciously stunned look on his face when she pulled away.

"Yeah," she answers. "I remember." A soft, wondering smile curves her lips. "You knew me even when I looked like me. But wasn't me. And, er. Incidentally. Sorry about taking advantage." Even though she's not. The blush raging across her cheeks is probably a really good indicator of _that_. She was always bullocks at lying to him, anyway.

"Oh, you didn't," the Doctor says quickly. "Take advantage. And I would always know you, what do you think I am, a novice at all things Rose Tyler? Besides which, Cassandra's accent was _terrible_. But--um. Don't worry, that--the thing you did? That was, um, _fine_ , it was really--" But Rose doesn't get to find out what it was, because the vampire chooses that moment to lose his patience with her and the Doctor's awkward wittering, and clamps his meaty hands around the Doctor's neck.

"Doctor!" she screams. The Doctor's eyes bulge slightly as the screwdriver falls out of his hands and his arms flail. The vampire growls and jerks the Doctor's head back to reveal his neck, and Rose feels a moment of such fear as those fangs lower to the pale skin--

Hang on. She looks down at the screwdriver now in her lap. "Doctor," she calls urgently, scrambling to her feet. "Which button deals with vampires?" 

The Doctor kicks his silly white Converse shoes and turns purple instead of replying. 

"You don't even _need_ air like that, stop pretending!" Rose calls frantically. "Use your respiratory bypass or something!"

Another kick of his legs as an answer, and Rose shuts her eyes, presses a random button. When she opens her eyes, she discovers that someone named Bob Flutie is now Resting in Pe, instead of Peace. The gravestone smokes and simmers and Rose whimpers. The Doctor is going to get bitten by a vampire. And he's going to be quite awful as vampire spawn, he's not at all into incestuous bloodplay or frilly period garb. Or maybe he _is_ , and the thought makes Rose take a step back instead of a step forward.

The dust above materializes. A tall, dark-haired man with a swirling cape. Rose arches a brow, and though the vampire is undoubtedly attractive, she can't help but think he looks rather obvious.

But then, she favors brown pinstripes and ridiculous black specs, doesn't she? It's that favor that causes her to blurt out: "We don't need your help, thanks." Her first thought is that the Doctor would be really proud of her. Her second thought is, _Oh, damn. He's got absolutely no chance now._

Thankfully, Dracula only casts her an amused look over his shoulder before waving his hand. The fledgling vampire immediately raises his meaty forearms, releasing the Doctor to fall to his knees.

"Didn't you hear th' girl?" the Doctor asks, a bit deliriously. Rose bites her lip; perhaps the Doctor _does_ need to breathe just as badly as humans do. Oops. "She said we didn't need your..." he raises a feeble finger, then flops to the ground. "..help."

Rose elbows Dracula aside and drops to her knees next to the Doctor, eyeing the fledgling cautiously. "Doctor?" she asks, jiggling his shoulder. "Doctor, wake up!" The Doctor's head lolls to the side, and she sees a tiny bead of blood. "He took a nip of the Doctor!" she says, outraged.

"Doctor?" The vampire fledgling squints. "That man is a doctor?"

Rose allows herself a snort, but only just. "That," she says, tucking her arm under the Doctor's head and trying valiantly to ignore the cool breath puffing against her neck as she hoists him up, "is the question of the bloody millennium." She looks up at Dracula, the Doctor's arm looped loosely around her shoulder and her arms banded around his waist. "Now that he's been tainted by that bloodthirsty fiend, is the Doctor gonna be all..." Rose bares her teeth. "Bitey?"

Dracula floats closer. Rose blinks; nothing good has ever come of sentient beings floating--hello, _Daleks_. She doesn't trust floating. But Dracula pins her with his impressive glare, and suddenly, all that mistrust fades. He looks deep into her eyes, and she falls within herself, something hypnotic swirling around in her, locking her limbs.

"Why, Rose Tyler," Dracula intones, trailing one cold finger down her throat. The throat she unconsciously bares. "Do you perhaps _vish_ the Doctor to be...bitey?"

"Doctor?" she asks stupidly, and she doesn't quite notice as the Doctor falls from her grip, emitting a weak _oof!_ "Doctor who?"

There is a voice beneath the gauzy dreaminess of being under Dracula's thrall. A voice that is screaming, _"Rose Tyler, you are under Dracula's thrall!"_ The voice sounds annoyed. The voice sounds like the Doctor.

Oh, right. The Doctor. The Doctor! 

All at once, Rose looks down at her feet, where the Doctor has fainted from, presumably, irritation beyond belief. She blushes and bends, scooping him up once again and glaring balefully at Dracula, the Doctor's messy brown hair tickling her nose. "You put a brain whammy-jammy on me," she accuses.

"Only a little bit," Dracula insists. "I find I cannot help mesmerizing those who mesmerize me." He reaches out, and Rose can feel herself melt, but then she shakes her head roughly. 

"Sorry," she says ruefully. "The Doctor's still in a lather about Yolanda. Can't be too clever to wind him up again." She darts a look at the fledgling, gives a nervous laugh. "You know," she says with dawning realization, "I don't think this went the way the Doctor planned."

"Hardly anything does, is this correct?" Dracula gently says. "Ah, but that is the joy of travelling with one such as he. A new vorld of vonders and oddities. And dangers." He flashes a smile, all glittering, gleaming fangs. Rose swallows with difficulty. "But he vanted to show you something truly special, Rose Tyler. He vanted to show you the stuff of childhood dreams and nightmares, something that you vould remember long after he vas gone..." Dracula passes a hand over the Doctor's face. "His mind has such dreams and secrets and desires and fears when it comes to his young human Companion, did you know?" A delicious, hot thrill runs through Rose. "Would you _like_ to know?" Dracula asks sikily.

"I--" Rose falters. She would, actually. She'd like to know very much. She'd like to know why the Doctor watches her sleep and holds her hand and kisses her to save her life, but he won't tell her about his home, or his name, or even his favorite color. She'd like to know whether things really changed as much as it felt they did when he regenerated, or if things didn't change at all, and she's just being stupid. She'd like to know why he holds her hand like she's going to disappear, and why he doesn't look away when her eyes reveal too much. She'd like to know if it's even _possible_ one day, to--or if they'll be like this for the rest of their time together, best mates and travelling buddies and something deeper but not.

But then, she doesn't mind either way. Just so long as she's with him, and he looks at her with the same trust and loyalty and affection he always has done. (Well, almost always has done, sometimes Rose has a selective memory when it comes to messing up things with the Doctor.) The haze around her clears, and the weird, melty feeling in her knees hardens up. 

She takes a breath and says, clearly, "No. I wouldn't. What's in his head is what's in his head and it's private, and brilliant, and I'll thank you to keep your lecherous, Dark-Princey brain feelers off of it!"

Dracula sniffs, straightens regally. "So be it," he nods, and bows. "It's a shame, you know. We could have had such fun."

"Not at his expense," she says firmly, hoisting the Doctor up again, smiling at the press of his lips on her collarbone. "Never at his expense." Rose watches as Dracula inclines his head, and then all of a sudden, he's dust in the wind again, blowing away.

...and taking along his thrall over the fledgling.

"Oh, bugger," Rose says feelingly. The fledgling snarls a nasty snarl, flexing the muscles that Dracula had kept immobilized. "Um, Doctor," she says, pinching his side. "Doctor, now would be a good time to--"

"Get out of the way!" The Doctor's eyes spring open and he straightens, almost sending Rose to the ground. He catches her wrist and pulls her up roughly, squishing her to him as he backs away quickly. "2000, September 25th," he mutters. "That man died yesterday night, and he's rising now. Blast!" He hits his forehead and sways woozily. "Oh, this body isn't one for head injuries, I can see that now. Doubly, in fact..." 

Rose presses her hand to his forehead. "You'll be alright?" she asks worriedly. "Not that it matters, does it, as we're about to be bit, but..."

The Doctor laughs a little hysterically. "Bit-but, indeed!" he crows. "I was off in my calculations--" he says feverishly, moving Rose backwards, "Dracula _does_ arrive tonight. Something to do with every day feeling like Tuesday on this world..." he's muttering to himself. "Doesn't matter, though," and he brightens. They are almost the woods lining the cemetery now, and the fledgling is thundering closer. "We aren't going to be turned into vampires, Rose! Dracula has bigger fish to fry, true, and coupled with his appallingly black character, that's probably why he ran off when you so wonderfully stuck it to him--" the Doctor gives Rose an affectionate nuzzle. "--and here that fish comes now!"

Rose ducks into the woods, tugging the Doctor back to join her, and they peer around a tree as a black and blonde blur darts out in front of them and tackles the fledgling to the ground.

"Buffy Summers, the vampire Slayer," the Doctor says softly. "A hero, you know, even in the future. Oh, she does fantastic things, that girl."

"A vampire Slayer?" Rose asks, her eyes wide as she watches a young woman with long, golden hair twist and turn, sending the vampire flying with nary a nudge when even the Doctor had a bit of trouble just _breathing_ around it. "What's that, like...an assassin, or something?"

"One girl in all the world," the Doctor says. His eyes are almost faraway. "One girl in every generation, born with the strength and skill to hunt vampires. It's her calling. Her duty. Her destiny. Till she dies, and another is called." He gives an almost bitter laugh. "All alone, 'cause a bunch of men said so." His lips tilt up. "Oh yes, she'll do _fantastic_ things."

The girl wrenches her legs around the fledgling's neck and then, with some slick maneuvering that Rose can't quite see, a stake is shoved right through the vampire's heart. Ashes explode in the air, and Rose should be fascinated, but all she can think of is the Doctor's voice when he said _One girl in all the world. All alone._

She tears her eyes away from the slim, proud figure of this warrior she never even knew existed, and she leans into the Doctor. Her hand slips into his and she says, "I don't think that girl is alone, Doctor." The girl is talking to a pretty redhead and a handsome young man, now, and the smile on the Slayer's face is soft, effusive, happy. "No, I don't think she's alone at all. And you know.." Rose plays with a button on the Doctor's jacket. "Well, you're not alone, either. Not so long as you've got me. And you've got me _forev--mpph!_ "

The Doctor's hand covers her mouth. "Don't make those sorts of promises, Rose," he says roughly. "Forever is the one thing no one has." His eyes soften and he tilts her chin. "But you're right," he amends, smiling. "I'm not alone, so long as I've got you."

Rose stares into the Doctor's eyes, searching the depths for the source of the anguish she sometimes sees flashing like lightning. She doesn't understand why, and as the dust overhead the Slayer rematerializes, Rose wishes desperately she had taken Dracula up on his blasted offer.

The Doctor leans into her touch, when she raises a hand to cup his cheek. And despite all the unanswered questions, despite the world-renowned vampire luring the legendary warrior-slayer into his thrall some distance away, for once, it seems the Doctor is ready to let himself fall.

But it's too much. Rose can feel the Doctor tense right before their mouths graze, a heated sense of heightened awareness zinging between them. Humans put so much stock in kissing, Rose thinks, probably because of the way nerve endings can go ablaze at the slightest touch on the mouth. A shudder runs through her as the Doctor takes a trembling sort of inhalation.

Yes. Too much. And not the right moment, and no one's dying tonight, which seems the precedent for such sort of embraces. The Doctor clears his throat and steps away and Rose comes out of herself, trying not to be disappointed.

"So that's Dracula, hmm?" she asks abruptly, snatching her hand away to play with a strand of her hair. The tree blocks them from sight, but she can see a billowing cape now, and the blonde girl craning her neck up, a hypnotised expression on her face. "He's...interesting."

"Not as such, if you ask me," the Doctor mutters, suddenly very interested in his hands. "He's too pale by far. Sort of watery-eyed. He looks _sickly_ , Rose. You'd be on borrowed time."

"I think he's pretty," Rose says, hiding a smile. "All that beautiful skin and black hair. Nice body, too, d'ya think they have gyms in Transylvania?" She gives a naughty leer, joking, but apparently the Doctor isn't slightly amused.

"Not as pretty as the Slayer," the Doctor says, and there is a challenge in his tone. Maybe even something sly. Rose just shakes her head, already on to his game.

"She's nice," Rose says noncommittally. "If you like the skinny type." She mimicks the Doctor's look-down-yer-nose expression, and his mouth drops open at her implication.

"Rose," he says indignantly. "Skinny is the new muscled, I'll have you know. At least according to the March 2105 issue of _Blush_. Which I, uh, haven't read and never will," the Doctor tacks on, rather unnecessarily.

She grins pointedly. "I like the skinny type," she continues loudly, as if the Doctor had never spoken. "Skinny does me just fine, in fact."

The Doctor's frown relaxes into a mirroring grin, though he ducks his head to hide his expression. He leans against the tree and fiddles with the screwdriver, his tongue poking out a little from between his pressed-tight lips, in that terribly cute way that suddenly makes Rose's heart seize up with something frighteningly akin to sentimentality. 

She'd never been much for sentimentality before meeting the Doctor, preferring to kick Mickey rather then kiss him, or hug her mum rather than say 'I love you'. But ever since travelling with the Time Lord, it's been sleepless nights and glowing eyes and smiles that say too much. Her heart feels like it's overflowing with emotion all the time now, and it'd thrill her, if it didn't scare her so bloody much, sometimes. 

"What are you doing?" she asks carelessly, her eyes unfocused as she thinks.

Blue light zips past her cheek and Rose feels curiously like she's being psychically tickled. "I think you've got a K'shankikka gh'luk. Sector 5 of Galaxy 8, year 8010. Probably picked up on the TARDIS while we were travelling," the Doctor tells her conversationally, but Rose isn't really listening.

The tenderness, she can understand, yes. Unwavering faith, absolutely. But the unspoken words between them, and the knowing-but-not-knowing of how he feels, how he's going to react at any given moment? Not to mention the fact that it's so soon after his regeneration, and sometimes it still seems as if she's getting to know a completely different man. A very fit, completely adorable man, but still--

"Wait. A Kashankickawhatsit--" Rose squints. "You're making that up!" For one thing, the name sounds like something the Doctor creates out of thin air when she's getting rather relentless with her quizzing of the universe's grandeur, on those particularly long trips in the TARDIS. For another, he hasn't even licked anything yet, which is apparently this reincarnation's foolproof way of making deductions. She sort of loves when he licks things, though--

Her face burns, even as the Doctor folds his arms and does that little pouty thing with his lips.

"Am not!" the Doctor answers her indignantly, causing her to roll her eyes. "Well, alright, I am, a little," he concedes. "But it _could_ be a K'shankikka." He makes a face. "They're known to cause abhorrent judgment in the host body where they nest." He makes a show of peering into Rose's face, licking his finger and aiming for the side of her head.

She smacks the Doctor's arm, batting him away before he can do something unbelievably ridiculous like stick his finger in her ear. And she knows he would. In a _second_. "Jealous," she says, a smile playing around her lips. His finger is still lurking suspiciously close.

The Doctor pffts, scratching his head with his other, non-licked hand, his cheeks suspiciously pink.

"Did you just pfft at me?" Rose asks, pushing away from the tree and poking the Doctor in the chest. "You did! You just pffted at me! You're a 900-year-old Time Lord who just _pffted_ at me 'coz you think I think that Dracula's sexier than you!"

"Don't you?" The Doctor asks quickly, his eyes darting away.

Rose looks at him for a long moment, shifting from foot to foot. Finally, she speaks, and her voice is soft. "No," she says. "Not at all."

The Doctor scratches his head and finally meets her eyes, the wide, shining brown of them achingly foreign yet somehow familiar. He looks pleased, and he's smiling that goofy grin of his. "Oh," he says. "Well. Good."

The sound of a roar and bat-wings flapping tells Rose that they've missed the grand finale. 

Somehow, she doesn't care.

They wait in the woods till the Slayer and her friends leave, and the Doctor spends a few minutes searching the air suspiciously, sniffing and licking a couple headstones, just to make sure. Rose does well hiding her revolted expression, but the Doctor can tell, because he gets that sheepish grin on his face once again.

And later, when he walks her to the TARDIS, hand comfortably in hers, he asks, "So, Rose Tyler. Good cemetery trip?"

She grins. "Epic," she confirms, kissing his cheek and beaming. "Simply epic."

**Author's Note:**

> Reposted from Livejournal.


End file.
